


jonjon

by ymorton



Series: podsa tumblr fic [3]
Category: Pod Save America (RPF)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-28
Updated: 2018-04-28
Packaged: 2019-04-29 06:36:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 6,728
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14467080
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ymorton/pseuds/ymorton
Summary: a collection of all the jonjon (jon favreau/jon lovett) ficlets i've posted on tumblr, ranging from a paragraph to ~1000 words. very loose. read at your own risk.





	1. werewolf

**Author's Note:**

> i'm in the process of moving shippy content off tumblr and onto ao3. most fills will have the original prompt in bold + the fill, or even LESS context than that. they're messy, informal, and poorly written but i've decided to give up on the idea that ao3 is only for perfectly polished works. hope you enjoy!

[ **IN A DARK, DARK WOOD THERE WAS A DARK, DARK HOUSE AND IN THAT DARK, DARK HOUSE I THINK WE SHOULD GET DRUNK AND FOOL AROUND. (I WANT DIRT UNDER MY FINGERNAILS.)** ](http://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=http%3A%2F%2Fwww.asofterworld.com%2Findex.php%3Fid%3D857&t=MThjNzY2YmE4ZTI0NjQ2YzdiMmU0YjA0ZDE0NmNkYmYyNTQwODhiOSxwbE5qc3diSw%3D%3D&b=t%3AC5BKp4cXUr_sE1fViMkwuQ&p=http%3A%2F%2Fsleepy-skittles.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F155287327552%2F50-a-softer-world-prompts&m=1)

“Oh god,” Lovett says, coughing, waving away cobwebs. Jon walks in behind him, hand over his mouth. It smells like mildew and wet dog and there’s probably spiders everywhere. Jon fucking  _hates_ spiders. 

“The hell is this place?”

“This place,” Lovett says grandly, flicking a switch. The light flickers wildly but steadies. “Is where I used to spend my sad, lonely adolescence. At least during full moons.”

Jon looks around. The room’s musty and damp but it’s less terrifying with the light on. There’s a couch on one side, an armchair next to it, both old and crisscrossed with deep scratches, stuffing falling out. A stained rug and a little table and a bookshelf stacked high with books.

“You- you used to come here during your, uh, monthly change?” Jon says hesitantly, and Lovett starts laughing. 

“Please, sound more like my 9th grade health teacher. You freak.” 

He plops down on the ripped-up couch and holds the bottle of whiskey out to Jon. “Here.” 

Jon sits gingerly next to him and takes a gulp. It burns on the way down and Lovett grins at him, eyebrows raising. “Good, right?” 

“Yeah,” Jon says, rolling his shoulders, letting out a breath. It’s been a long week. “Good.” 

–

“What do you wanna do?” Lovett mumbles, a half hour later when they’re both flushed from whiskey and he’s slung a leg over Jon’s lap. He’s been kissing Jon’s neck for the past five minutes, nuzzling against him, and Jon feels drunk and reckless.

“Anything,” Jon breathes, tilting his head back so Lovett has easier access. “Like- anything you want.”   


“Fuck,” Lovett says. “Don’t say that.” He sits back on his heels, panting. His face is flushed.

Jon slides his hands onto Lovett’s waist, warm skin under his shirt. Runs his thumbs against the hair on Lovett’s belly. “I mean it though,” he says fervently. “You could do- anything with me, Lovett.”

“Don’t say shit like that. Don’t look at me like-” Lovett looks away, rubbing a hand through his hair. Jon can feel him breathe deep, calming himself down. “You’re such an idiot. You have no - it’s not fun. Or easy. Just because I make it seem effortless doesn’t mean it is. It fucking sucks.”

“I know,” Jon says fervently. He knows it sucks. He’s seen Lovett the morning after a change, hollow-eyed and exhausted. He wants to- to take the sucking away from Lovett, so he doesn’t have to go through it alone. He wants it to suck for both of them, together.

And he wants to feel Lovett’s teeth on his skin. It flashes through his head, hot and terrifying. His heartrate jumps, blood rushing, and Lovett’s eyes dart to his neck.

“You’re an idiot,” Lovett says again, lower. He leans in to nose against Jon’s fluttering pulse, inhales slow and deep. “God, you smell good.”

Jon exhales shakily when Lovett opens his mouth against his neck.

“So good,” he mumbles. Jon can feel the blunt edges of his teeth, and then something sharp. His dick’s hard and his eyes are tearing up and he doesn’t know what the fuck it means. His hands clutch tight on Lovett’s waist and Lovett pulls away.

“Fuck,” he says hoarsely, staring at him. Jon can see his teeth, canines out and glinting when Lovett breathes a laugh. “You’re seriously sitting here asking me to bite you tenderly like a mating ritual in some trashy werewolf romance novel. You know that shit isn’t real, right?”

Jon’s face burns. His mom had a book like that, that she kept in her dresser. Jon snuck it out of the bottom drawer and read it when he was a kid, a few times. Maybe more than a few.

“Fuck off,” he says unsteadily. He can feel Lovett’s ass against him, so Lovett can feel him too, probably. 

“You don’t really want me to bite you,” Lovett says, softly. He slides his hand down Jon’s chest, then his belly, then- Jon’s breath hitches. Lovett gropes his dick, wedged against the zip of his jeans.

“Do you?” he says, hot and low and knowing. “You don’t really want that. Unless you’re fucking sick in the head.”

“Fuck,” Jon gasps, tipping his head back. Lovett leans in for another long inhale of his skin, unzipping Jon’s jeans eagerly with one hand. “Lovett-“

“You have a fucking boner right now,” Lovett says, laughing, rubbing the heel of his palm against the bulge in Jon’s briefs. Jon squirms. “Thinking about getting your throat torn out. What the hell is wrong with you, Jon? Are you that much of a masochist?”

Jon starts to choke an embarrassed protest and Lovett shuts him up with a kiss. There’s teeth in it and Jon gives back as good as he gets, only faltering when Lovett finally gets his hand into Jon’s underwear. It just feels so-  _good_ , fuck. Jon groans into Lovett’s warm neck.

–--

They stumble back to the house around midnight and get on the road back to DC by eight. Lovett drives, because Jon’s hungover. Lovett doesn’t get hangovers, which he brags about incessantly. 

“So, where, uh, where is it?” Jon asks, looking over at Lovett, who has one hand on the wheel and the other clutching a Diet Coke. “You know. The- the bite. Your bite.”

Lovett looks over at him, face inscrutable behind his sunglasses.

“That’s an intimate question, Jon Favreau.”

“Well we got pretty intimate last night,” Jon says, braver than he feels. “Like I got pretty intimate with your- you know. You owe me.”

“My  _you know_. You’re such a fucking Catholic,” Lovett mutters, mouth curling up at the edge. He sets his Diet Coke down. “Fine. It’s on the back of my right thigh and it’s hideous. You can see it if you ask nicely. And before you ask, I was twelve years old, and I was at summer camp, and I got lost in the woods.”

“You got lost?”

“We were on a hike or something. A walk. I don’t fucking know. This asshole from my junior high named Geoffrey told me to turn left and then ran ahead. I got turned around, it got dark, it started raining-“

He shrugs, picking up his can again. “I don’t really remember it happening. They caught the guy that did it- some drifter from out of state. Had a record of biting kids, like on purpose.”

He takes a gulp and belches into his elbow. “They put him down.”

“Shit,” Jon breathes.

“Yeah. This was before that whole late-90s push for lycanthropic due process. You bit someone, you were fucking done. He didn’t even have a trial.” Lovett chews his lip. “And it wasn’t just me that night. There was this counselor from the girl’s camp across the lake. She was like sixteen.”  

“Shit!” Jon repeats, higher. “Fucking Christ. Why didn’t I ever hear about this?”

“It was at Jew camp in Wisconsin, and you were twelve and Twitter wasn’t invented yet. You had no way of getting the news. You probably couldn’t read yet.” He snorts.

“Fuck off,” Jon laughs, tipping his head back against the seat, looking over at Lovett. It wasn’t like Jon hadn’t heard- things, when he was little. Everyone heard things. His mother told him to be careful near the woods at night, to stay in a group, to walk on well-lit streets. He went to camp every summer, up in Maine where there were coyotes in the woods, and his counselor told scary stories as they howled outside the cabin at night. Stories about biting and bleeding. Stories about how wicked and dangerous werewolves were, how all they craved was blood, how they’d happily rip a kid’s throat out and eat his heart.

Jon thought about those stories last night, after they got each other off. He thought about it when Lovett pressed his nose to Jon’s shuddering pulse, against the blood still pounding in his throat. He thought about it when they snuck upstairs and Lovett tripped on the laundry basket and they both burst out laughing.  _Dangerous,_ Jon kept thinking. It didn’t compute. 

Lovett slurps the last of his Diet Coke, crunches the can in his hand and tosses it on the floor of the car at Jon’s feet. It lands on a pile of similarly-crushed cans. Jon looks away, trying not to smile.

“This weekend was fun,” he says, dipping his fingers out the open window, thinking about it. “Thanks for taking me.”

Lovett’s quiet so Jon looks over at him. His hand’s clenched on the wheel.

“Sorry about my parents,” he says, stiffly. “They’re- overprotective. I know they’re annoying.”  

Jon’s heart clenches watching him. It’s true, Lovett’s parents were kind of annoying. His mom hovered and his dad complained and they bickered the whole weekend, in a way Lovett assured him was normal.

“I liked them,” Jon says. “No worries. It was fun.”

“You liked my dad? He said your speeches were sentimental bullshit.”

Jon shrugs, grinning. “You’ve said worse. I’m used to it by now.”

Lovett smirks over at him and Jon has to look out the window. 

“It was fun,” he says again, quieter, still smiling. He closes his eyes.


	2. birthday card

** I was cleaning up and I found an old birthday card I gave to you years ago. Why did you keep it?**

He stops at Lovett’s dresser on his way out of the bathroom and opens his sock drawer. It’s nearly cleaned out and all the remaining socks are mismatched singles. Jon twists around to see Lovett’s hamper overflowing with dirty clothes. Of course. He sighs and reaches further back, yelps when his fingers hit the sharp edge of some kind of paper.

It’s a stack of papers, actually. Photos, mostly, and Lovett’s ID card from the White House. Jon snorts. Lovett looks like he’s twelve. Jon gently tucks it back in the drawer. 

There’s a card tucked between family photos, dark blue with a white birthday cake. Jon opens it up and huffs a laugh when he sees his own handwriting. 

_Lovett_ , it says.

_Happy birthday! It’s crazy that this is your last birthday in DC, unless you fail miserably in LA and come crawling back to beg for your job. We both know that won’t happen. If you can make Plouffe laugh you can make anyone laugh. LA’s not going to know what hit them._

_Thank you for being part of this team for three years. I’m proud of what we’ve accomplished. You are genuinely one of the funniest, smartest people I know. If you change your mind there’s always a place here for you. I mean that._

_Happy birthday Jon. Hope 29 treats you well. Don’t forget us when you’re famous._

He’s tracing his finger over his familiar signature when he hears footsteps pounding up the stairs.  

“Jon, hurry up, I’m gonna-” Lovett stops, holding the doorjamb. He’s breathless. “What are you doing?”

Jon looks up at him. “You kept this?”

“What?” Lovett says irritably. Jon holds up the card.

Lovett goes pink and narrows his eyes. 

“I keep a lot of things,” he says. “I hoard. You know that.”

“Mm-hm,” Jon says, not even trying to hide his grin anymore.

“Why the fuck are you rummaging around in my sock drawer?”

“My feet are cold! You won’t turn the fucking A/C down!”

Lovett rolls his eyes and turns to go. “Hurry up.”

Jon reads the card one more time and then carefully slides it back in the drawer. He remembers exactly where he was when he wrote that card, hunched over his kitchen counter, embarrassingly late for Lovett’s birthday dinner, bleary-eyed and incoherent from two straight nights of writing. It’s so weird how life works. He laughs to himself and shuts the drawer. 


	3. camboy favs

i’m laughing/crying about fuckin ………. the porn star thing …  like oh mgy god favs and/or tommy as fuckin camboys jerkin off on like a private channel or w/e that lovett tunes into sometimes (ok, a lot of times) and he only accidentally sees favs’ face once because favs is dumb and someone (tommy? are they roommates?) comes into the apartment while he’s jo’ing for lovett and he’s like Oh fuck one sec and like stands up to close and lock his door and when he sits back down and readjusts his laptop lovett gets a glimpse of big ears and dark eyes and a strong jaw etc 

but then who does lovett see at some coffee place on the hill he always hits up before work? fucking FAVS (not that he knows favs’ name, his username is prob like BostonBro69 or something) sucking down an iced coffee and squinting at his laptop. lovett’s like, no way. that’s not him. but the guy is there the NEXT day and then the next week and lovett’s pretty fucking sure ??? 

IDK HOW THEY MEET EVENTUALLY I DONT KNOW BUT I KNOW I NEED A FEATURE FILM MADE OF THE CONCEPT 

\---

favs is a mostly-unpaid intern hanging on til they give him a real job (it doesn’t look promising), his friend got him into cam work, he maintains that it’s NOT GAY and it’s JUST FOR NOW!!! it’s no big deal. he tells his parents he’s getting paid at the office because they’d fuckin die if they knew. 

it takes lovett like a week to work up the courage to talk to him in the coffee shop, and another couple months of burgeoning friendship to admit to favs that he used to (HE DOESN’T ANYMORE, IT FEELS WRONG) watch favs JO on camera. but after that it only takes him like 25 minutes to start making fun of favs’ screen name (bostonbro69? REALLY? HAS HE EVER EVEN 69′ED ANYONE?) and jerk off technique (all that bicep-flexing like anyone needs to flex that much while they’re doing that) and carelessness (who doesn’t lock their fucking door before they start- i mean REALLY-) until favs is choking on laughter and shoving his shoulder and grinning with his eyes crinkled and lovett just wants to fucking………. do something stupid like kiss him. (he doesn’t, because favs isn’t into him like that. why would he be????) 

(obviously favs IS into him like that, very much so, even though he’s told himself a million times that he’s not actually gay)

-

who needs “plot” all i know is that at some point this turns into favs and lovett making out in favs’ bed, lights dimmed, lil mood music playing, the works. favs is grinding down into him with intention, thigh tucked tight between lovett’s legs and mouth wet and open against his, until suddenly he pulls away like “fuck. fuck, i can’t- i can’t, um. i gotta get online later, i can’t… finish yet” and lovett groans “are you serious?” and favs is all red-faced and breathless and says “yeah dude. i’m not a fucking teenager, c’mon. rent’s due. don’t be mad.” 

lovett sits up in bed, huffing. “fine.  _fine_. i won’t be mad if you, like- let me watch.” 

at first favs is like FUCK no dude! but of course he gives in. lovett sits behind his laptop and makes faces at him and favs can’t stop fucking giggling as he jerks off. 

“sorry,” he says to the camera at one point, when lovett mocks the way he’s rubbing his nipples and favs can’t stop cracking up. he coughs, and says shyly- “sorry, guys. my boyfriend’s here and he won’t shut the fuck up.”   


lovett stops dead, and favs’ hand goes still on his cock. he swallows hard. 

_boyfriend?_ , lovett mouths. his heart’s pounding. 

favs is staring at him, mouth agape like he genuinely didn’t mean to say that. 

“i have to go,” he says to the camera, voice shaky. “sorry.” 

“boyfriend?” lovett hisses, louder, and favs says hastily, “i’ll- i’ll be back on later, sorry-” and smacks his laptop shut. 


	4. first kiss

**“Can I kiss you?” FOR JONJON**

Favs’ eyes are so dark on his. Lovett feels like he’s drowning in them, or sinking into them like quicksand, or some other equally heavy-handed turn of phrase. He can’t look away. He can’t even  _breathe_. He’s just caught there, like- like a- a butterfly in a net or something. God, he needs to stop with the analogies.

After a long moment Favs looks away, tongue sliding over his lips, eyelashes fluttering as he looks down. The edge of his mouth curls up in a smile.

Lovett chokes out an incredulous snort. His heart’s beating faster. “What was  _that_? Was that- was that a look? Did we just share a fucking look, Favs?”

“Shut up,” Favs mutters, laughing helplessly.

“That was an actual  _look_. I felt it. That was like a movie. You seduced me with your eyes, right here on my back porch while the cicadas chirp and the sun sets. I feel like I’m in the Princess Bride.  _As you wish_.”

“You’re such a dick,” Favs laughs.

“Well you like dick now. Apparently. I mean, that’s what you just spent like two hours working up the courage to tell me, right?”

Favs’ face goes solemn and Lovett feels a twinge of fear that he’s gone too far. When are coming out jokes appropriate? Should he give it a day? 

“I don’t like-” Favs starts, and stops again. He swallows and looks up. “Or, I don’t know, I just- just- yours. Just you. I don’t know.”

Lovett wants to laugh but his breath’s caught in his throat. He coughs it out. “You just like me.”

He means it sarcastic but it doesn’t come out that way.

Favs keeps looking at him, brow furrowed, like Lovett’s a puzzle he’s trying to piece together. It makes Lovett start sweating.

“This is a shitty joke if it’s a joke,” he warns. “Like a  _really_  fucked-up joke-“

“Jesus, Lovett, it’s not a joke.” Favs laughs, which kind of weakens his point. “This isn’t junior high, I’m not about to pants you in front of the whole school. Drop the childhood trauma for one fucking second and just-“

He stops, eyes dropping to Lovett’s mouth. He swallows. “Just, like-“

Lovett takes pity on him and pulls his face in by the back of his neck. Favs leans in eagerly, nose mashing against Lovett’s, missing his lips. He makes a hurt sound and then laughs sheepishly. “Sorry.”

“Idiot,” Lovett says against the side of his mouth, reaching a hand up to straighten Favs’ stupid face. He gets a little caught up stroking Favs’ stubble, his warm jaw. He smells so good. 

“Can I, um, can I kiss you?” Favs asks.

“ _Idiot_ ,” Lovett repeats, voice squeaking a little. “You just did. Why the fuck are you asking?”

“I don’t know.” Favs laughs. “For real this time, I mean.”

“Not that 8th grade spin-the-bottle monstrosity? I think you might’ve broken my nose.” Lovett scrunches it to demonstrate. He’s aware that he’s stalling for time and not doing that great a job of it, but Favs is just watching him fondly. “Ow. Is it possible to sprain a nose?”

“So fucking dramatic,” Favs breathes. “That was your fault, I wasn’t ready. You pulled me. There was no warning.”

“It’s okay, Favs. You’re too handsome to ever have learned how to be a good kisser. It’s fine, we’ll get there, it’ll just take a lot of practice-“

“Shut up, Jon,” Favs says, eyes almost gone he’s smiling so hard. He leans in again and finds Lovett’s lips this time, grazing his knuckles over Lovett’s cheek, and- he’s - he’s not a bad kisser, unfortunately. Tragically, he’s pretty great. Good instincts. A solid mouth. Lovett’s pretty annoyed about it until Favs presses his thumb into the soft skin right above his jaw and licks deep into his mouth, and Lovett just- goes quiet for a while.


	5. oops i forgot

hoo boy, lovett at some point in a conversation being like “shut up favs you’ve never kissed a dude you don’t get to talk” (they’re talking about kissing, i dont know who CARES) and favs is like “yes i have?” and lovett’s like yeah RIGHT. who. WHO! and favs is like, not making eye contact- “you, asshole.” 

lovett scoffs like “shut up weirdo” and favs is like, “new years eve? 2010?” 

he still wont look at him. hes fiddling with his phone very deliberately.

2010 was the year lovett threw up twice in the morning and then ate seven IHOP pancakes. it was a record. tommy took a picture to commemorate the event. he doesnt remember anything about - kissing favs. he would  _know_  if he’d- 

“at midnight?” favs says, squinting down at his phone. his face is pink.

lovett wracks his brain helplessly but he’s drawing a blank. all he remembers are those fucking pancakes. it’s still his contact photo in tommy’s phone.

“should we head out?” favs tucks his phone in his pocket and looks up, composed again, like he didn’t just confess his mouth has - touched lovett’s. oh god, his  _mouth._ lovett looks away hastily. 

\---

i’m still thinking about this (constantly) and like. i think i need a fic where favs has all these like, things he did for/with lovett over the years that lovett barely registered. 

like it starts with that new year’s kiss. lovett obsesses over it for like 3 days, but favs is acting so normal that soon enough it’s out of his head, and he’s back to yelling at favs during ads, carpooling to work and smacking favs’ hand away from the radio, etc. favs is favs. a dumb hot idiot. so what if they brushed mouths at a new years party 1000 years ago and favs had a gay panic about it. 

and then he and tommy are late for a flight to michigan and they have to sprint to their gate, and tommy’s faster than him (annoying) and waits at the gate all flushed and laughing as lovett finally catches up. “so dramatic,” he calls, as lovett almost knocks over an entire tourist family in matching t-shirts. “you’re like favs when you left DC.  _wait! don’t leave me!”_  

lovett grumbles, catching his breath, and follows him into the jetway and it’s only a few minutes later that he processes what tommy said. “wait- what do you mean that was like favs?” he hisses, as tommy picks up his bag for him and puts it in the overhead. 

tommy slides into his seat, sticking his water bottle into the seat pocket. “you know, when you moved to LA and favs did the whole, try to catch you at the airport and convince you to stay thing? but then he read your email wrong and thought your flight was later than it was so he just looked like an idiot and got like 6 parking tickets for leaving his car at the curb? that was classic.” 

“wait. are you serious?” lovett’s sitting there dazed. “he tried to stop me from going to LA?” 

tommy looks over at him. “he never told you that?” 

lovett shakes his head and tommy goes conspicuously silent for a minute. lovett takes the opportunity to put his headphones on and stare pointedly at his phone. tommy does the same.

\---

there’s probably more, like at some point they’re probably out at some crappy club in LA- emily, favs, lovett and a couple people, and  emily’s like, “oh my god, I’m too old for this. i’m a grandma at heart. jon, this seems like the place where you and lovett hooked up.” 

and favs starts nervous-laughing and lovett’s like “hooked up? what?” 

emily’s drunk and giggling like “you know when he came to visit and you guys did cocaine and made out in a club? so hollywood.” 

favs is slurping his drink, not looking at lovett.  lovett is wracking his brain trying to remember. there was definitely a club. there was definitely coke. they danced a lot. he remembers dancing and favs’ face really close to his. He looks at favs and favs looks back for a split second and then emily’s like, “okay, fine, whatever. we’re here, we might as well dance.” and she pulls favs into the crowd.

\---

or like, emily and lovett get drunk at some point and emily snuggles into his side on the couch (lovett’s like, “boundaries, emily. boundaries, we talked about this” even though he secretly doesn’t mind it) and emily's like “god i’m so glad i like you. you know?”

lovett’s not sure if he should be insulted. she keeps going like, “i mean at first i didn’t really know how it was gonna go, because of jon’s thing for you, you know? but like i get it now. you’re pretty irresistible.”

lovett’s like “no one in my entire life has ever described me as irresistible, emily. but i mean, i’ll take it.” and then- “wait. what do you mean, his thing for me?”

emily scoffs and steals his wine out of his hand. “oh, like you didn’t know jon had a crush on you back in dc.”

lovett stares into space, trying to wrap his head around that. maybe the wine was laced with PCP. maybe he’s hallucinating. maybe he’s-

“i mean, you guys kissed!“

“okay, that was _nothing_. that was- i didn’t even remember it.”

“yeah, he told me that,“ emily says, trying to tip the last drops of wine out of the bottle into her glass. “that hurt his feelings, lovett. my husband’s lips are memorable.”

“jon’s straight,” he says, desperately, as she groans and gives up on the wine. “he’s like the straightest person i’ve ever met. he’s like- a football in human form. he went to catholic college. he drinks beer.”

“you drink beer.“ emily elbows him. “go open up another bottle. i think i have a pinot greej in the fridge.”

“i don’t like how you say that at  _all_. i do not care for it.”

emily rolls her eyes. “oh,  _now_ you care about wine. shut up.”


	6. leaving dc

we talk a lot about tommyjon when lovett leaves DC but like…. what about jonjon? lovett makes favs come over to box up all his shit, pretends to help for a half hour and then just sits on the counter and sucks down the diet coke favs brought him from cosi and orders him around. favs should probably mind but most of the time he’s laughing too hard to care. by the end of the night they’ve drunk all the beer in lovett’s fridge and they’re sprawled out on the sofa surrounded by boxes. favs is sweaty and tired and tipsy and getting a little melancholy. “still can’t believe you’re leaving us,” he says, drinking his beer so he doesn’t have to look at lovett. it’s so weird still. it doesn’t feel possible that they won’t be in the same office. that lovett won’t be a metro ride away. “you’re leaving the fucking  _white house_.” 

lovett’s staring at the space on the wall where the tv used to be. “honestly, i can't believe it either. i want my job back if this doesn’t work out.” 

favs huffs a laugh. “you can apply again like everyone else. blind test. maybe you won’t write it on a fucking bolt bus this time. turn in something good and we’ll see.” 

“i never should’ve told you about that.”   


“yeah, i’m your boss. you probably shouldn’t have.”   


“not my boss anymore,” lovett reminds him.  

favs was never really his boss. it’s fucking impossible to be lovett’s boss. he bites down a smile, sips his beer to hide it, and lovett sighs and sinks down to stick his feet into favs’ lap. he pulls a pillow under his head. 

“i’m exhausted. moving fucking sucks.”   


“you asshole, you didn’t do shit,” favs laughs. he doesn’t shove lovett’s feet off, though. soon lovett won’t be around to annoy the fuck out of him. he has to enjoy it while it lasts.   


(he takes lovett to the airport on the last day, hugs him for a good thirty seconds, even when lovett wriggles in his arms and complains.

“you could stay, you know,” favs says, pulling back, even though it’d be a process if lovett really took him up on the offer. “you could still stay. at least through the election. we’ve never campaigned together, it’s fun-” 

“not that becoming a real obama groupie doesn’t sound fun,” lovett says, shifting his backpack on his shoulder. “but i think i’m good.” 

“just saying.” 

"you could leave,” lovett says, not looking into his eyes. he kicks favs’ foot. “come to LA and write that screenplay you’re always procrastinating with.”

favs swallows. 

“maybe someday,” he says. “when things slow down.”   


“yeah, that’ll definitely happen,” lovett says dryly. he finally looks up, mouth twisting to the side. favs feels a little like someone’s stepping on his chest. “bye, favs.”) 


	7. groomsmen

** do you ever think about how Favs asked Tommy and Lovett to be groomsmen? Like was it just a casual thing? Were they expecting it or did it come as a surprise? I bet always-afraid-of-being-left-out Lovett tried to play it chill like "ya of course" but was secretly so happy and felt so loved and included to be invited to the attractive groomsmen squad with boat shoe-esk but objectively hot Tommy and literal model Andy **

GOD! FUCK! WHAT IF DUMB ASS FAVS ASKED TOMMY FIRST BC HE WAS LIKE WITH TOMMY OR WHATEVER AND DIDNT THINK IT’D BE A BIG DEAL and then lovett found out and was like furiously anxious, all those old feelings rising up in him, like he’s not- like they’re not- favs probably wants, like, a bunch of tall handsome dudes anyway, like all his old friends, his married friends, his normal friends, ( his straight friends).

and then they’re driving to the office and favs is like, "okay, so we’re gonna use indochino for the suits, are you cool with blue?" and lovett’s like, hands clenching on the steering wheel- "for what?" and favs is scrolling through his timeline like, "for the wedding, obviously. should we do navy? navy’s good, right?" 

and lovett swallows really hard because he could still be reading this all wrong and he’s been quietly fucking spiraling for like 2 days and says- "for the groomsmen?" 

and FINALLY stupid ass favs is like, "yeah, obviously for the-" and he looks over at lovett and realizes he FORGOT! lovett’s glaring at the road, not looking at him, knee jiggling furiously. favs asks, sheepishly, and lovett’s like "yeah sure fine." and favs buys him a coffee and they never Talk About It again.)


	8. one night stand

** Is Jon the type to have like self hatred after he has a one night stand? Does it depend which boy? **

wait, which jon??? 

because favs doesn’t have one night stands with boys, favs has one night stands with HIS HAND in the SHOWER with his FACE PRESSED AGAINST THE WALL thinking about the LONG NIGHTS on the CAMPAIGN TRAIL with TOMMY and also that TIME LOVETT FELL ASLEEP WITH HIS HEAD ON HIS LAP and favs got a WEIRD BONER  

as for lovett, fuck no!!! lovett puts on sweatpants and a grubby old tshirt and makes coffee and says “oh hey” when the dude slinks down the stairs in the morning and probably doesn’t even like, offer him breakfast. maybe when the dude leaves and the house is empty lovett feels briefly kind of shitty, like,  _am i too old for this_?, but then he goes over to favs’ house and makes a million drinks with favs’ nespresso machine to kill his hangover and makes emily give him a backrub so it’s FINE.


	9. accidental stimulation

**accidental stimulation jonjon yES. fun.**

“Wait! Wait!” Lovett’s face appears in the car door. He’s panting, and from his spot in the back, Favs huffs a sleepy laugh. He was wondering where Lovett went. They all broke up into teams for the early-morning lit drop and Lovett went off on his own, muttering something about needing coffee. “You traitorous assholes, you almost left me behind.”   


“There’s no room,” Katie says from the middle seat of the van. “Josh is coming in a minute, you can go with him-”  


“I’m not waiting alone on a street corner in Baltimore at the crack of dawn,” Lovett huffs, climbing into the packed car. “Is that how you Obama people treat a teammate? Do you want me to get kidnapped?”   


“Hate to break it to you, dude, but you’re an Obama person now,” Mike says, twisting around to laugh at him. “Like, it’s 2010, you have to accept it by now.”   


“Elections are still triggering,” Lovett says, plopping down on Katie’s lap.   


“Absolutely not,” she says, shoving him off onto the floor. Lovett yelps.   


“Go in the back,” Mike says, drumming the steering wheel idly. “And hurry up, I wanna leave. If we get pulled over for too many passengers we’re so fucked-”   


“You’re paranoid, and I’m tiny, we’ll be fine,” Lovett says, clambering into the backseat. “Ellie, can I-”   


“Nope,” she says, pushing him towards Favs. “Jon, he’s your speechwriter, you have to deal with him.”   


“Don’t sit in the middle, Lovett, I can’t see,” Mike calls.   


“Jesus, okay, okay,” Lovett grumbles, and he sits down hard on Favs’ lap.   


“Ow,” Favs says mildly.   


“Shut up.” Lovett unbuckles the seatbelt, lifts his butt to let it snap back into place, and settles back onto Favs’ lap. “Ah. Better.”   


“I’m not going without a seatbelt,” Favs says, fumbling for it. “Not with Mike driving.”   


“I heard that!”   


Lovett laughs and helps Favs pull the seatbelt over them both. It seems like a good idea until it’s buckled and Lovett’s pressed flush against him, back to chest. He feels Lovett’s body go tense as he realizes.  

“I can’t move,” Lovett says with a snort, just as Favs says, “Yeah, maybe we should-”   


“I’m driving now!” Mike announces. “No one move! If we get pulled over on Election Day I’m gonna personally kill all of you!”   


“Touchy,” Lovett mutters, wriggling to get comfortable, tugging the seatbelt for more room.   


“It is 7AM,” Favs says, trying to stay still. How long is it to DC? 45 minutes? An hour? Longer if they hit traffic, probably. “Like that’s fair.”   


Lovett just grumbles, and finally gives up fiddling with the belt. He settles back into Favs with a huff. He feels warm. Favs can’t really feel, like, his body, because Lovett’s in a puffy jacket with a scarf around his neck, but- he feels warm.

“This is intimate,” Lovett says. “Considering you’re my boss. Is this technically workplace harassment?”   


“Shhh,” Ellie hisses. “I’m trying to sleep.”   


“Good idea,” Lovett murmurs, shifting til his face is towards the window. He lets out a long sigh. “You’re not that comfy, Favs. You need to eat more.”    


“Sorry,” Favs says, really trying to make it sound sarcastic. It kinda gets there.   


“Mm, shh,” Lovett breathes. He shuts his eyes, head tipping back against Favs’ shoulder. His hair smells clean like shampoo, curls tickling Favs’ nose. “Go to sleep.”  


Favs really wishes he could. He takes in a long breath and tries to get comfortable. Where the hell is he supposed to put his hands? 

He sets his right one on the armrest but there’s still the other one. If he puts it too far out he’ll touch Ellie. If he slides it around Lovett’s waist that’s weird, even though that’s kind of what he wants to do. He finally settles on Lovett’s knee. His knee is safe. 

They merge onto 295, the van speeding up and starting to vibrate. It’s a piece of shit rental they took to do some last-minute campaigning, and the President joked about all his talent being in one van that could blow up at any minute. 

Favs kind of wouldn’t mind at this point. Lovett’s fast asleep against him now, legs sagging open, surprisingly heavy and solid for someone so small. His face is turned against Favs’ neck and his breath is hot and constant against the ticklish spot right below Favs’ ear. 

Favs squirms a little, but there’s nowhere to go. 

“Oh- fuck,” Mike says softly from the front, over the low sound of the radio. Everyone else is either asleep or scrolling through their Blackberries. “Here comes the traffic.”   


“Shit,” Favs mutters, accidentally squeezing Lovett’s knee. Lovett shifts in his sleep and lifts his head a little. 

“We there?” he mumbles. He’s so close. Favs wants to do something weird, like kiss his head, or slide his fingers under Lovett’s jacket, or move his hand higher up his leg, into the warm space between Lovett’s thighs. He steels himself and doesn’t move. 

“Nope,” he says miserably. “Traffic.” 

Lovett hums and nuzzles back into his neck. When he blows out another hot breath Favs shudders hard, shuts his eyes. They’ll be back soon. He can do this.

 


	10. saved you a seat

** JonJon, "I saved you a seat" **

Jon wakes up slowly, stretching into his pillow and smiling at the remnants of his dream. That guy from the press office, Favreau’s friend - Timmy, Tony, whatever- was kneeling in front of him, rubbing Jon’s feet and apologizing to him for being blonde and handsome and a smug jackass. He was also inexplicably wearing a judge’s robe and a lot of mascara, which Jon is not going to look into further.

He yawns happily and fumbles for his Blackberry on the nightstand. Couple new emails, a message from his mom about his health insurance he keeps ignoring. Nothing much. What a nice morning. It looks dark outside still, maybe he’ll have time to make eggs. It can’t be past seven. He peeks at the time and chokes on a yawn, sputtering.

_8:30?_  It can’t be 8:30. It’s definitely not 8:30, because he has a writer’s team meeting at 8:30, and that would mean that the meeting is starting right  _now_ , and-

“Fuck,” he gasps, pushing himself upright, a jolt of adrenaline hitting him hard. “Fuck.  _Fuck_.”

Should he text his boss? Should he just wing it and see how fast he can get there? But the train from his place  _sucks_ , and he really needs to take a shower. Maybe he could call in sick. Do people call in sick to the White House? He’s only been there for three fucking weeks, he has no idea. 

He dashes off a message to Favs-  _Running late coming ASAP sorry._ and rolls out of bed so fast he almost bangs his head into his dresser.

\---

The train’s miraculously fast and he bursts into the office only 25 minutes later, panting. He knows he’s already sweating through his shirt, and he didn’t have time to shower, but there’s nothing he can do about that now. He put on like half a stick of deodorant but he’s pretty sure it’s not helping with either problem.

“Sorry,” he gasps. “Sorry, alarm didn’t go off.“

The other writers look terrified, because- oh, fuck, that’s the President at the end of the table, looking at Jon curiously like he can’t comprehend how he possibly got hired. And also a little like he can’t remember his name.

“So sorry, sir,” Jon whispers, clutching his bag to his chest, trying to find a spot. All the chairs near the door are taken. No one will fucking make eye contact with him. It’s like he just walked into the room naked and singing Happy Birthday. Haven’t any of them been late before? Don’t they have any  _compassion_?

“Come on in, Lovett,” Favs says, sounding amused. “Here. I saved you a seat.”

It’s two chairs down from the President. Jon makes his way there, trying to discreetly dab sweat off his temples.

“Glad you could join us,” the President says dryly, as Jon finally collapses into the chair.

“I promise he’s worth it, sir,” Favs says, sliding a draft over to him. “We’ll whip him into shape.”

“Well, I certainly hope so, we have a lot of work to do,” the President says. Everyone laughs politely.  _Traitors_. “So where were we?”  

Jon stares blankly at the draft, heart still pounding. He starts to fumble for a pen in his bag and Favs quietly puts one in front of him.

“Thanks,” Jon mutters. “Sorry.”

Favs squeezes his shoulder, just for a second.


End file.
